Hi,
Life as I knew it ended with the end of the exams. Life as I know it began since then.
I have been reading some for the past few days. Watching some of the well-missed idiot-box. It is also now good to go out in the sun or in the middle of the night and lounge around in obscure little cafes drinking warm chocolate and chatting about nonsense bits that holds no meaning.
I wanted to share a small tidbit that I got from Sidney Poiter, but alas, I shall save it for another day. Leaving his worlds to simmer for now in my mind gives me immense satisfaction.
In the meantime, feel joy for me as I experience the last burst of wind before the steamy and balmy year ahead.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
Adios
As a child, we never believe in the things that parents say. It is almost as if truths from their mouths are dismissed as folk tales. That’s because most of what they say is to scare the hell out of us, to ensure that we walk on the righteous and honest paths for the rest of our life. To force us to lead a life of cowardice and to make us shiver in their penetrative understanding of life and its intricate footwork.
Today, I realize that for all the lies and untruths that my father told, at least one of them is true. I must have been about seven when he conveyed to the wriggly and homework-loathing version of me that the path of education, though fraught with numerous obstacles are also littered with many more enjoyable moments. His advice was to savour the transient period of learning before being ejected into the ‘real-life’ working world.
Now this post is not in any way meant to degrade or insult the years to come. Neither is it for the lamenting of what is consumed and passed. It is more of a celebration of the path of institutionalized learning, beginning more than 10 years ago. At that tender age, no one knew why school was invented and no one knew the value of education. It’s an abstract concept, originating from parents who need to rid their lives of pesky little fingers and high pitch voices.
So all these little young minds trot to school, compare cane welts, parental/family ground rules, pocket money allowance value… ya-da ya-da ya-da. All these while, they gain exposure to obscene ‘outside’ influence, as well as an individual opinion and a sense of right and wrong. Perfect ingredients to formulate the tumultuous teenage years. And during those years, disobedience, truancy and defiance lends its hand to well-formed friendships with perfect strangers that will prove to (hopefully, fingers crossed) last a lifetime.In those years, we also start to question the purpose for our own existence. We wonder if we will ever be able to have a normal, intact and happy family. We wonder if we will find success in life. We ask questions that not even the 80 year old version of ourselves can answer and yet search high and low for a hint of the truth that is to come. And for some, we wonder if we will ever get to university, and get what the world called the basic degree.
University for me got farther when I went to a technical polytechnic instead of the usual JC route that Singaporean take. I am sure I must have disappointed many people with my choice then, but it all turned out for the better. Polytechnic life has imprinted my life in a way beyond my wildest imagination. While it was specific in its’ academic teaching, there was no limits to the vastness of the experience. The people, the events, the friendships (and enemies) are so diverse and enriching that it leaves you gasping for more.Graduating with a technical diploma holds a certain special meaning; it signifies that you are now ready to be employed within the workforce in a certain field. Although most of us knew that we are ready for work, we still desire that elusive college education that we have read so much about in storybooks and heard so much about through all the grapevines. We angst silently over entrance scores and worry about if we are ever going to take it.
Today, that journey has ended, at least for me. The last paper was scripted today, the final regurgitation of every single biochemical and developmental pathway was done. There is a certain loss of direction in my life as if every single textbook from here onwards will have lesser purpose. Powerpoint slides and lectures are already a thing of the pass. I can no longer give the excuse that I am studying to stay up late, pass ungodly hours. And I no longer have the option to skip planned day-time events because I feel like it.There is a certain joyous moment in all of it. Almost like winning the lottery after all these years of random number picking. Except that this lottery feels so much more precious because of the effort and time spent. It feels like a dream, but sweeter. Feels like everything good, except better.
The very last year of my education, and it couldn’t have been more fulfilling without the great people I have met this year. And although biochemistry and genetics were never my first choice for majors, it was a constant engaging experience, one after another. One less potluck and it would seem lackluster. One less conversation would have crippled this year (or at least I choose to believe). Even taking away the bad moments (when S acted out an acute seizure during a graded presentation) would have been disastrous because what is great when you have nothing to compare it to?Adios to my third and final year. I’ll sure miss you, and I believe I have already started.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
3 Loots Maketh a Happy Lark
There is a 30% sale going on at the Borders Store, 10 minutes from where I am currently staying, so I went down to get several books today. That itself made me a very happy lark.
I love books. I love the smell of unopened books. I love running the soft pad of my thumb along the bound pages and feeling the scrape of every single loving page. That act itself is orgasmic.
That said; I have to admit that I didn’t always love to read. All credit for my reading speed and capabilities have to go to my dearest mummy. The process is nothing short of miraculous but that’s another story for another day. Today, my loot takes center stage.
I have to first mention that the Borders in Melbourne City is not very well stocked. I went in armed with a list of 4 specific books but only managed to find one of those in stock. It’s a sad case of unreciprocated desire but I managed to find 2 other books from the back of my memory (and their shelves) to occupy the printed vouchers that I have with me.
The first book; The Seven Story Mountain by Thomas Merton, is ‘an autobiography of faith’. I have quoted Merton on several previous posts and was actually looking forward to get the book ‘New Seeds of Contemplation’ which Borders did not have. Thankfully, they have his autobiography which I have been wanting to read. I didn’t have to look too far to settle for second best. In my opinion, this second best was just as good as the first choice!
The second book is a guide book recommended by common people like me and you on Amazon. It is titled, ‘How to Write a Better Thesis’, obviously! This is in preparation for honours year 09. A little quick to prepare for the death of my academic life and the subsequent birth of my research life, but it is a book that is going to be sitting around till March 09. Not something I want/like to read at this moment, it is more of something I should read.
The last book, is a precious precious book. The Measure of a Man by Sidney Poiter. It’s the autobiography of the first African-American to win the Academy Award. This book was not on my list but while searching for a book to adopt my 30% discount voucher, I saw this on the shelf and knew I had to get it. I knew of this book from the Oprah Show (there was an interview) and it was the Oprah Book Club pick for January of 2007. Ok… I know I am a little delayed in getting this book but hey, better late than never!
Other than the acquisition of yummilicious books, I was also a do-gooder today at Borders. I gave away 2 of the extra vouchers I had to two random strangers in the queue. It was heart-warming to see their smiles, christmas came early! For the others in the queue who stared at me with a ‘why didn’t you pick me?’ look, I felt so terrible but there is only so much that I could do really.
Wish I had printed 10 copies.
I love books. I love the smell of unopened books. I love running the soft pad of my thumb along the bound pages and feeling the scrape of every single loving page. That act itself is orgasmic.
That said; I have to admit that I didn’t always love to read. All credit for my reading speed and capabilities have to go to my dearest mummy. The process is nothing short of miraculous but that’s another story for another day. Today, my loot takes center stage.
I have to first mention that the Borders in Melbourne City is not very well stocked. I went in armed with a list of 4 specific books but only managed to find one of those in stock. It’s a sad case of unreciprocated desire but I managed to find 2 other books from the back of my memory (and their shelves) to occupy the printed vouchers that I have with me.
The first book; The Seven Story Mountain by Thomas Merton, is ‘an autobiography of faith’. I have quoted Merton on several previous posts and was actually looking forward to get the book ‘New Seeds of Contemplation’ which Borders did not have. Thankfully, they have his autobiography which I have been wanting to read. I didn’t have to look too far to settle for second best. In my opinion, this second best was just as good as the first choice!
The second book is a guide book recommended by common people like me and you on Amazon. It is titled, ‘How to Write a Better Thesis’, obviously! This is in preparation for honours year 09. A little quick to prepare for the death of my academic life and the subsequent birth of my research life, but it is a book that is going to be sitting around till March 09. Not something I want/like to read at this moment, it is more of something I should read.
The last book, is a precious precious book. The Measure of a Man by Sidney Poiter. It’s the autobiography of the first African-American to win the Academy Award. This book was not on my list but while searching for a book to adopt my 30% discount voucher, I saw this on the shelf and knew I had to get it. I knew of this book from the Oprah Show (there was an interview) and it was the Oprah Book Club pick for January of 2007. Ok… I know I am a little delayed in getting this book but hey, better late than never!
Other than the acquisition of yummilicious books, I was also a do-gooder today at Borders. I gave away 2 of the extra vouchers I had to two random strangers in the queue. It was heart-warming to see their smiles, christmas came early! For the others in the queue who stared at me with a ‘why didn’t you pick me?’ look, I felt so terrible but there is only so much that I could do really.
Wish I had printed 10 copies.
Degrees of Change
Between today and the 21st, I am awaiting the commencement of potentially the last exam in my life.
It is startling to realise that I am finally at this juncture of my life.
I remember myself still as that kid of about maybe 4 or 5, glancing enviously at my older cousin while she adorns herself with adult face paint and scented water before going out in the evenings. And all the while, I will sit in my corner, pretending to be preoccupied with my little preoccupations.
And I would wonder secretly in my mind, the possibilities of being more grown that I was then.
When I sat for my Cambridge 'O' Levels, I thought that it was still a long and lonely road till I may finally get my degree. That coverted and floating image of a degree that my daddy put in my head since I was a little girl brought up to be a little boy. I imagined that the world would be different. The sky a brighter blue, the smells of the market fresher than most mornings and the sounds of the streets gaier than all the days that I have ever heard for all of my life.
And now that I stand at this juncture... I do feel different.
I now have an opinion, a control over the perceived colour of my hair, the way my hair falls over my shoulders and the drape of the clothes I wear.
But I still curl my feet when I sleep, struggle to remember to comb my hair when I wake and turn the corners of my mouth down when daddy pouts.
Deep inside, I am still that 3 year old.
Blah, I am not even 1 degree away from where I started but amazingly I am right where I wanted to end up in.
It is startling to realise that I am finally at this juncture of my life.
I remember myself still as that kid of about maybe 4 or 5, glancing enviously at my older cousin while she adorns herself with adult face paint and scented water before going out in the evenings. And all the while, I will sit in my corner, pretending to be preoccupied with my little preoccupations.
And I would wonder secretly in my mind, the possibilities of being more grown that I was then.
When I sat for my Cambridge 'O' Levels, I thought that it was still a long and lonely road till I may finally get my degree. That coverted and floating image of a degree that my daddy put in my head since I was a little girl brought up to be a little boy. I imagined that the world would be different. The sky a brighter blue, the smells of the market fresher than most mornings and the sounds of the streets gaier than all the days that I have ever heard for all of my life.
And now that I stand at this juncture... I do feel different.
I now have an opinion, a control over the perceived colour of my hair, the way my hair falls over my shoulders and the drape of the clothes I wear.
But I still curl my feet when I sleep, struggle to remember to comb my hair when I wake and turn the corners of my mouth down when daddy pouts.
Deep inside, I am still that 3 year old.
Blah, I am not even 1 degree away from where I started but amazingly I am right where I wanted to end up in.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
The Right Thing
I am sure I am paranoid. Maybe you can even consider me a loon.
My constant censor of the content of this blog is a huge part of its creation. And mentally, I am forever stuck, debating between the ‘save draft’ and ‘publish post’ button after I finish hacking away at my keyboard.
How much of my life should be a ‘tell’ and how much of this life should be a ‘hush, no one should know’ issue? And why do I even care about who I hurt with my words if I do really mean it?
I mean if I really think that terribly about someone, why on earth do I still go to the ends of the world to protect that person?
The paradoxical issue of trying to do the right thing.
My constant censor of the content of this blog is a huge part of its creation. And mentally, I am forever stuck, debating between the ‘save draft’ and ‘publish post’ button after I finish hacking away at my keyboard.
How much of my life should be a ‘tell’ and how much of this life should be a ‘hush, no one should know’ issue? And why do I even care about who I hurt with my words if I do really mean it?
I mean if I really think that terribly about someone, why on earth do I still go to the ends of the world to protect that person?
The paradoxical issue of trying to do the right thing.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Housekeeping
Back when it was 1955, this was all true.
It makes me glad that I live in the now.
It makes me glad that I live in the now.
Although the pressure to be size 000 was not present in the past.... I think I still... prefer the now.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Infomercials...
can mean so many different things to so many different people.
When you are a kid, it is a reminder of how good life can be. And because you are impressionable, you believe the processes in front of you. That the green magic duster is indeed good enough to clean fragile glassware. The blender is a magical twister that crushes, juices and at the same time separate the pulp from the liquid. A gel from some tree bark that someone applies on their thigh can really make the fats disappear within 45 minutes!
When you have watched enough infomercials they lose their glitter. You begin to laugh at the before and after pictures and say, 'Are they the same person?' You point at the poor model on the floor and laugh at her permanent grin. When the sell part of the infomercial comes up, you go... 'Wait 5 minutes, surely they will throw in new freebies...' and viola, they do!
The conditioning power of the idiot box is so strong that you know, in 30 minutes time, they will repeat the whole segment.
The things you learn... from your favourite nanny that never fails.
When you are a kid, it is a reminder of how good life can be. And because you are impressionable, you believe the processes in front of you. That the green magic duster is indeed good enough to clean fragile glassware. The blender is a magical twister that crushes, juices and at the same time separate the pulp from the liquid. A gel from some tree bark that someone applies on their thigh can really make the fats disappear within 45 minutes!
When you have watched enough infomercials they lose their glitter. You begin to laugh at the before and after pictures and say, 'Are they the same person?' You point at the poor model on the floor and laugh at her permanent grin. When the sell part of the infomercial comes up, you go... 'Wait 5 minutes, surely they will throw in new freebies...' and viola, they do!
The conditioning power of the idiot box is so strong that you know, in 30 minutes time, they will repeat the whole segment.
The things you learn... from your favourite nanny that never fails.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Of Servants and Gifts
The intuitive mind is a sacred gift
And the rational mind is a faithful servant.
We have created a society that honours the servant
And has forgotten the gift— Albert Einstein
Are you more intuitive or are you more rational?
Food for thought from our great Einstein... What has our education done to us?
Premature Graduation
I graduated yesterday with First Class Honours. This is from Lord Tristan School of Relationships. Lord Tristan has been kind enough to accept me as his student for about 10 minutes.
I had to answer questions like, how long have I been together with my current partner. Declare my name with the appropriate capital letters. And be really really honest about everything else.
I was kind of disappointed because I was actually trying to get a pHD. It turns out that you can only enroll for that course only after you have had 2 ex-es. Darn it really. This is the part I will say sorry to Mr S.O. because I need to get my pHD and he is kind of... well... in the way?
Mind you, this is not easy. Do not underestimate this mean feat. Don't think that any Tom, Dick or Harry can get this. According to Lord Tristan, you have to be his friend even before you can set eyes on the application form.
I had to answer questions like, how long have I been together with my current partner. Declare my name with the appropriate capital letters. And be really really honest about everything else.
I was kind of disappointed because I was actually trying to get a pHD. It turns out that you can only enroll for that course only after you have had 2 ex-es. Darn it really. This is the part I will say sorry to Mr S.O. because I need to get my pHD and he is kind of... well... in the way?
Mind you, this is not easy. Do not underestimate this mean feat. Don't think that any Tom, Dick or Harry can get this. According to Lord Tristan, you have to be his friend even before you can set eyes on the application form.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
The Grand Plan
Its almost 3 am and here I am surfing the internet. Reading archives or newspaper or emails even. Doing mundane virtual errands that ABSOLUTELY have to be done. Because if they dun, someone will DIE. You know, DIE!
Oh dear.. do I need hormone therapy?
I have yet to shower. I swear my hair feels like it has been dipped in oil that once upon a time belonged in Macdonalds. Every crease of my body has a layer of either grim or crystalised salt. (Pick whichever you prefer, see I give you options) Under my skin exist a layer of pus waiting to congregate into small little infested pimples oozing with unshowered-ness.
What is WRONG with me???
I swear you can smell all of yesterdays' dead insects on me right now. If you sniff hard enough. Well... if you even dare to sniff.
Thats it. I need a plan. I need a plan to tell me what to do with my life. This cannot continue on for much longer. Here is the grand plan.
I am going to watch another episode of 'House' (newly aquired disgusting habit) and retire to bed with my trusted Elmo, who loves me unconditonally.
Oh dear.. do I need hormone therapy?
I have yet to shower. I swear my hair feels like it has been dipped in oil that once upon a time belonged in Macdonalds. Every crease of my body has a layer of either grim or crystalised salt. (Pick whichever you prefer, see I give you options) Under my skin exist a layer of pus waiting to congregate into small little infested pimples oozing with unshowered-ness.
What is WRONG with me???
I swear you can smell all of yesterdays' dead insects on me right now. If you sniff hard enough. Well... if you even dare to sniff.
Thats it. I need a plan. I need a plan to tell me what to do with my life. This cannot continue on for much longer. Here is the grand plan.
I am going to watch another episode of 'House' (newly aquired disgusting habit) and retire to bed with my trusted Elmo, who loves me unconditonally.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Of Solitary Lamps and Music
My study table is a mess...
Unfortunately, it is not because I am in the midst of this painful string of events called 'examinations', but really because I am always in this orchestrated and organised mess...
I like to put, on the wall in front of my table, the things that I really like and enjoy. Say for example, J bought mini-muffins for us the other time and I have the shop label from the muffin box up on the wall. I also have a small self-printed 'poster' of Elmo in a Labcoat.
I have photos, of my parents, my sister, Mr S.O and myself. I have post-it notes from my housemates wishing me good luck for my examinations.
Then I have the geekier stuff... say notes that remind me what an 'auxotroph' is. The 20 amino acids and their DNA codes. I have the periodic element from webelements.com too...
Then I have a label saying; 'The solitary lamp of my soul, they dye your feet in music'.
I think it has been there since March... Those were the words that I wanted engraved on the ipod that was meant for Mr S.O. for his birthday this year. Too bad I did not give him an ipod, so no engraving for him.
Maybe it can go onto the new mac, when his current mac runs out of breathe?
.
.
.
Yes Mr S.O., you can thank me now... =) But it does not mean that you can practice euthanasia on the current one.
Unfortunately, it is not because I am in the midst of this painful string of events called 'examinations', but really because I am always in this orchestrated and organised mess...
I like to put, on the wall in front of my table, the things that I really like and enjoy. Say for example, J bought mini-muffins for us the other time and I have the shop label from the muffin box up on the wall. I also have a small self-printed 'poster' of Elmo in a Labcoat.
I have photos, of my parents, my sister, Mr S.O and myself. I have post-it notes from my housemates wishing me good luck for my examinations.
Then I have the geekier stuff... say notes that remind me what an 'auxotroph' is. The 20 amino acids and their DNA codes. I have the periodic element from webelements.com too...
Then I have a label saying; 'The solitary lamp of my soul, they dye your feet in music'.
I think it has been there since March... Those were the words that I wanted engraved on the ipod that was meant for Mr S.O. for his birthday this year. Too bad I did not give him an ipod, so no engraving for him.
Maybe it can go onto the new mac, when his current mac runs out of breathe?
.
.
.
Yes Mr S.O., you can thank me now... =) But it does not mean that you can practice euthanasia on the current one.
A Chance
Examinations make you go slightly goo-goo-eyed. Makes your brain goes to mush and your arms ache from frantic scribbles made in a 3 hr time frame. Sometimes it gives you insights on things that are… well…. just random. Lack of stimulation makes you invent situations? Go figure.
When someone offers you a chance, do you take it?
On one side it would be awfully terrible of you to because it would mean that you are abusing your position as the one who was offered. It means that you are objectifying the whole situation and are just taking it because you can. So you can refuse and keep your pride intact. Justify your self-righteousness because you need to be independent and not bias.
On the other side, taking it means you are taking the easy way out. Because it is easier to agree and to accept rather than disagree and refuse. Because that is the faster lane to world peace. Because explaining the ‘otherwise’ that exists in your mind will take up time and energy which can be un-doubtly better spent.
Ever wonder that maybe, perhaps the person is not offering you a chance...
That there exists a possibility, in which the person is actually asking you for a chance….
That in taking the offer, you will not be indebted to him/her, and in fact he/she will be indebted to you because you gave them something that they wanted?
Giving is often charitable, making the receiver piteous. Giving can also be gratuitous, elevating the receiver to the position of worthy. Giving can be generosity and receiving humbled humility.
Who can tell giving from taking from receiving? Is there a difference?
Similarly, being the one offering doesn't make you look good or bad. It just means that you have enough courage to be the one to first risk your blood. To say, 'Hey come on, here is my heart, please don't reject it.'
When someone offers you a chance, do you take it?
On one side it would be awfully terrible of you to because it would mean that you are abusing your position as the one who was offered. It means that you are objectifying the whole situation and are just taking it because you can. So you can refuse and keep your pride intact. Justify your self-righteousness because you need to be independent and not bias.
On the other side, taking it means you are taking the easy way out. Because it is easier to agree and to accept rather than disagree and refuse. Because that is the faster lane to world peace. Because explaining the ‘otherwise’ that exists in your mind will take up time and energy which can be un-doubtly better spent.
Ever wonder that maybe, perhaps the person is not offering you a chance...
That there exists a possibility, in which the person is actually asking you for a chance….
That in taking the offer, you will not be indebted to him/her, and in fact he/she will be indebted to you because you gave them something that they wanted?
Giving is often charitable, making the receiver piteous. Giving can also be gratuitous, elevating the receiver to the position of worthy. Giving can be generosity and receiving humbled humility.
Who can tell giving from taking from receiving? Is there a difference?
Similarly, being the one offering doesn't make you look good or bad. It just means that you have enough courage to be the one to first risk your blood. To say, 'Hey come on, here is my heart, please don't reject it.'
Friday, November 7, 2008
Bothered and Unbothered
Some people cannot be bothered about things beyond their tiny bubble.
I believe I belong to that group of people. This is evident in the recent US elections.
I cannot tell you that I was glued to the idiot box while the elections are happening and when the major newscasters are each giving their own unique projections and commentaries, although I did know that the elections was on that day. I cannot tell you that I was sitting, halted in time and mesmerized by the change in the air. I cannot tell you that I was there, in spirit or in mind. Because I was not all of those.
Yet, a part of me is bursting at the seams with hope in the aftermath of the US elections. I like being part of something characterized by passion and drive, even though it is someone else’s’ passion and drive. And even if I am just a spectator with no say, only opinions.
My current thoughts are indescribable. This to me is so much more than the election of a new US president. How can I begin to put into plain words that when I think about President Obama, I think about the true ending of the American Civil War at the honest level of its residents? How can I even begin to say that I now believe in the existence of a truth that is independent, rational and also intuitive, un-berated by society’s perception of what is right and what is wrong?
I cannot convince myself that he will be a good president, yet. I cannot even convince myself that he will be better than the last. But that is just me and my own ghosts and insecurities, because my dreams have been a little crumpled by the events of the last 8 years.
When Bush came into term in 2001, I remember being the Secondary 2 kid that I was. When 911 happened, I remember wanting to remember forever that moment in history because I am suddenly witnessing the things that actually do go into History books, instead of just plain reading about them. I wanted to be able to tell my children that I was there when it happened, and that I believed Bush when he said those words, when he addressed his nations and the world. I believed him when he said that America will be able to show the world that freedom can be defended and upheld in the face of threats. And that they can pass this test.
At that moment, I remember clearly that Bush may just be one of the few great presidents in America’s history since he already has one of the prerequisites on his side, a great big tragedy. And a tragedy that is enough to bring the majority of the people over to his side.
But I was sorely disappointed, and perhaps I still feel the grainy and unpleasant discomfort under my skin from having my hopes dashed and that’s why I cannot bring myself to entrust the world as I know it now into Obama’s hands completely. The person with the power to heal; unfortunately has also the power to destroy. What will happen with Obama? Is America’s current votes indicative of the events that are about to unfold over the next 4 years?
Some people feel that America’s trust and hopes in Obama is in part due to their disappointment in the Bush administration. That they had enough of his 4 years of promises and another 4 years of proving that the promises are empty.
I beg to differ.
Perhaps, because I am a mimosa. I shrink when hurt. My memory of past pain is so strong that I lack the courage to stand up clearly for what I feel is right for the moment, uninfluenced by what is past. I lack faith in the linearity of time, believing that what is past still has the power to become the present. I lack the convicted careless outer shell that will put my spirit on the table every single time someone welds a knife.
My childish and idealistic mind puts a small slice of this world into Obama’s hands. The rest of me are still waiting for some glimmer of that decorated and restored piece before I give out all of my tiny aliquot of this world.
I don’t want to be cynical of him and his abilities. But I really need some proof that he is indeed an improvement. At the back of my mind, I know that he is different. But this time, it is not him that I don’t trust. It is my own judgment that I am putting to test.
There is a certainty of a momentum that may perhaps bring to a standstill, things in this world that should not be and should never be. There is a defiant tune in the wind, singing the changes that will be, can be and should be. While there are no clear boundaries that can define at this point in time what is good and what is bad, there is a consensus that some things (for example) on the humanitarian and economic front must change.
This huge change may be driven in part by our personal desire for stability and security but it is still a small step in a much larger picture. It is the beginning of cleaning up the mess that we made, not for ourselves, but also for our unborn children. Its the beginning of ensuring that our children will not live in a world as we know it, but in a world that we envision it to be. And may that be the best gift of all.
I believe I belong to that group of people. This is evident in the recent US elections.
I cannot tell you that I was glued to the idiot box while the elections are happening and when the major newscasters are each giving their own unique projections and commentaries, although I did know that the elections was on that day. I cannot tell you that I was sitting, halted in time and mesmerized by the change in the air. I cannot tell you that I was there, in spirit or in mind. Because I was not all of those.
Yet, a part of me is bursting at the seams with hope in the aftermath of the US elections. I like being part of something characterized by passion and drive, even though it is someone else’s’ passion and drive. And even if I am just a spectator with no say, only opinions.
My current thoughts are indescribable. This to me is so much more than the election of a new US president. How can I begin to put into plain words that when I think about President Obama, I think about the true ending of the American Civil War at the honest level of its residents? How can I even begin to say that I now believe in the existence of a truth that is independent, rational and also intuitive, un-berated by society’s perception of what is right and what is wrong?
I cannot convince myself that he will be a good president, yet. I cannot even convince myself that he will be better than the last. But that is just me and my own ghosts and insecurities, because my dreams have been a little crumpled by the events of the last 8 years.
When Bush came into term in 2001, I remember being the Secondary 2 kid that I was. When 911 happened, I remember wanting to remember forever that moment in history because I am suddenly witnessing the things that actually do go into History books, instead of just plain reading about them. I wanted to be able to tell my children that I was there when it happened, and that I believed Bush when he said those words, when he addressed his nations and the world. I believed him when he said that America will be able to show the world that freedom can be defended and upheld in the face of threats. And that they can pass this test.
At that moment, I remember clearly that Bush may just be one of the few great presidents in America’s history since he already has one of the prerequisites on his side, a great big tragedy. And a tragedy that is enough to bring the majority of the people over to his side.
But I was sorely disappointed, and perhaps I still feel the grainy and unpleasant discomfort under my skin from having my hopes dashed and that’s why I cannot bring myself to entrust the world as I know it now into Obama’s hands completely. The person with the power to heal; unfortunately has also the power to destroy. What will happen with Obama? Is America’s current votes indicative of the events that are about to unfold over the next 4 years?
Some people feel that America’s trust and hopes in Obama is in part due to their disappointment in the Bush administration. That they had enough of his 4 years of promises and another 4 years of proving that the promises are empty.
I beg to differ.
Perhaps, because I am a mimosa. I shrink when hurt. My memory of past pain is so strong that I lack the courage to stand up clearly for what I feel is right for the moment, uninfluenced by what is past. I lack faith in the linearity of time, believing that what is past still has the power to become the present. I lack the convicted careless outer shell that will put my spirit on the table every single time someone welds a knife.
My childish and idealistic mind puts a small slice of this world into Obama’s hands. The rest of me are still waiting for some glimmer of that decorated and restored piece before I give out all of my tiny aliquot of this world.
I don’t want to be cynical of him and his abilities. But I really need some proof that he is indeed an improvement. At the back of my mind, I know that he is different. But this time, it is not him that I don’t trust. It is my own judgment that I am putting to test.
There is a certainty of a momentum that may perhaps bring to a standstill, things in this world that should not be and should never be. There is a defiant tune in the wind, singing the changes that will be, can be and should be. While there are no clear boundaries that can define at this point in time what is good and what is bad, there is a consensus that some things (for example) on the humanitarian and economic front must change.
This huge change may be driven in part by our personal desire for stability and security but it is still a small step in a much larger picture. It is the beginning of cleaning up the mess that we made, not for ourselves, but also for our unborn children. Its the beginning of ensuring that our children will not live in a world as we know it, but in a world that we envision it to be. And may that be the best gift of all.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Merton: Selfless Love
Reading Thomas Merton’s book, No Man Is an Island brings a certain peace. And a certain epiphany.
We struggle everyday to define our lives in the ways that we can, and here it is, the simple truth written in black and white in the pages of his book.
For most of us, we feel that selfless love is the highest order of love. That if you loved someone selflessly enough, you will attain happiness because you loved. And because the lover is loved completely and wholeheartedly. Apparently flawed.
Merton has managed to put it so eloquently in his book, that the process of selfless loving is depended on the one being loved. And that loving selflessly is only the first step.
I can try to tell you more, but I cannot do it better than Merton.
We struggle everyday to define our lives in the ways that we can, and here it is, the simple truth written in black and white in the pages of his book.
For most of us, we feel that selfless love is the highest order of love. That if you loved someone selflessly enough, you will attain happiness because you loved. And because the lover is loved completely and wholeheartedly. Apparently flawed.
Merton has managed to put it so eloquently in his book, that the process of selfless loving is depended on the one being loved. And that loving selflessly is only the first step.
I can try to tell you more, but I cannot do it better than Merton.
Love can be kept only by being given away
A happiness that is
sought for ourselves alone can never be found for a happiness that is diminished
by being shared is not big enough to make us happy.
There is a
false and momentary happiness in self-satisfaction, but it always leads to
sorrow because it narrows and deadens our spirit. True happiness is found in
unselfish love, a love which increases in proportion as it is shared. There is
no end to the sharing of love, and, therefore, the potential happiness of such
love is without limit. Infinite sharing is the law of God’s inner life. He has
made the sharing of ourselves the law of our own being, so that it is in loving
others that we best love ourselves. In disinterested activity, we best fulfill
our own capacities to act and to be.
Yet there can never be
happiness in compulsion. It is not enough for love to be shared: it must be
shared freely. That is to say it must be given, not merely taken. Unselfish love
that is poured out upon a selfish object does not bring perfect happiness: not
because love requires a return or a reward for loving, but because it rests in
the happiness of the beloved. And if the one loved receives love selfishly, the
lover is not satisfied. He sees that his love has failed to make the beloved
happy. It has not awakened his capacity for unselfish love.
Hence
the paradox that unselfish love cannot rest perfectly except in a love that is
perfectly reciprocated: because it knows that the only true peace is found in
selfless love. Selfless love consents to be loved selflessly for the sake of the
beloved. In so doing, it perfects itself.
The gift of love is the
gift of the power and the capacity to love, and, therefore, to give love with
full effect is also to receive it. So, love can only be kept by being given
away, and it can only be given perfectly when it is also received.
iLectures; The Blues
I am back with a smaller dark cloud above my head. The remnant of the headache and flu still lingers but it does not bother me that much anymore. Anyway, the books are calling my name, I couldn’t resist!One great thing about lectures here at the University of Melbourne is that lectures are recorded on something called the ilecture system. So if you realize later that you actually did zone out and see black dots during a lecture, you can go back to the internet and download the audio notes and do a play back.
Amazing really. Makes going to lectures redundant actually. I still go to all my lectures of course. After all I paid good money to go to lectures in old heritage buildings! Still it is darn amusing when your iTunes recognize these downloaded lectures as belonging to the genre of blues.
Even Apple understands the pain of undergraduate students.
Heh, and obviously, in times of stress, we look for minute things to laugh and giggle about. Anything… to take our minds off the impending scripts to fill.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Facts of the Month Time
1. A new born crocodile is three times the size of the egg it hatched from.
2. It takes a week to make jelly beans.
3. Tequila is made from the juice of the agave.
4. There are more than twice as many kangaroos as people in Australia.
5. A tightrope walker is called a funambulist.
6. Flounder swim sideways.
7. 214 crates were used to transport the Statue of Liberty from France to New York in 1885.
8. The only thing that can destroy a diamond is intense heat.
9. A 500gm loaf of bread required 2 tonnes of water to grow the wheat to produce it.
10. Only 2 animals can see completely behind themselves without turning their head; the rabbit and the parrot.
11. It takes a tonne of ore to produce one gold wedding ring.
12. The human eye can, given enough time to adjust, see almost as well as an owl’s.
13. The rush of air produced by a cough can approach 1000km/hour.
14. Starfish dun have brains.
15. The short-term memory capacity for most people is between five and nine items or digits. This is one reason that telephone numbers were kept to seven digits for so long.
16. Cats have better memories than dogs.
17. The average human will drink about 72,737 litres of water in a lifetime.
18. The pupil of an eye expands as much as 45% when a person looks at something pleasing.
19. An ostrich’s eye is bigger than its’ brain.
20. By law, every child in Belgium must take harmonica lessons at primary school.
This is my favorite fact of the month;
Oh my goodness! Can you believe that? That really means that there are no such things as vegetarians, since everybody actually snack on itsy bitsy stuff in their sleep! That’s a fact I want at the top of my head the next time I encounter someone who tells me that vegetarianism is a virtue and carnivorism a vice!
Hey! That’s another reason not to brush your teeth before bed too! There is still an additional course coming up, mum!
p/s: OBAMA WON!
2. It takes a week to make jelly beans.
3. Tequila is made from the juice of the agave.
4. There are more than twice as many kangaroos as people in Australia.
5. A tightrope walker is called a funambulist.
6. Flounder swim sideways.
7. 214 crates were used to transport the Statue of Liberty from France to New York in 1885.
8. The only thing that can destroy a diamond is intense heat.
9. A 500gm loaf of bread required 2 tonnes of water to grow the wheat to produce it.
10. Only 2 animals can see completely behind themselves without turning their head; the rabbit and the parrot.
11. It takes a tonne of ore to produce one gold wedding ring.
12. The human eye can, given enough time to adjust, see almost as well as an owl’s.
13. The rush of air produced by a cough can approach 1000km/hour.
14. Starfish dun have brains.
15. The short-term memory capacity for most people is between five and nine items or digits. This is one reason that telephone numbers were kept to seven digits for so long.
16. Cats have better memories than dogs.
17. The average human will drink about 72,737 litres of water in a lifetime.
18. The pupil of an eye expands as much as 45% when a person looks at something pleasing.
19. An ostrich’s eye is bigger than its’ brain.
20. By law, every child in Belgium must take harmonica lessons at primary school.
This is my favorite fact of the month;
21. In an average lifetime, you will, while sleeping, eat 70 assorted
insects and 10 spiders.
Oh my goodness! Can you believe that? That really means that there are no such things as vegetarians, since everybody actually snack on itsy bitsy stuff in their sleep! That’s a fact I want at the top of my head the next time I encounter someone who tells me that vegetarianism is a virtue and carnivorism a vice!
Hey! That’s another reason not to brush your teeth before bed too! There is still an additional course coming up, mum!
p/s: OBAMA WON!
Monday, November 3, 2008
BRB: Out at War
Being a student who studies things like bacteria and viruses, I should be a little smarter. Just a tad bit wiser on bacterial and disease transmission would be good.
Too bad that I got the disease that Housemate C had 3 days ago. Either that, or I got the disease through the phone... Hey! YH, whats the type of phone that you are using?? Must be some lowest quote product again...
Ok I know it is Housemate C. YH is not THAT good to get THAT type of phone YET.
In the meantime, my head is clouded. Reminds me of this commercial where there was this lady walking around the streets with a dark rainy cloud above her head. My lids feel heavy, my limbs feel cold and head feels burning hot.
I am sounding the retreat from the books and going back to bed. Armed with 500mg of Acetaminophen and 4mg of Chlorpheniramin every 6 hours. And a pack of KM's cold remedy whenever I feel that I need more air, opps... I think KM's cold remedy is going to be on IV. Heh.
If the course that C took is any indication, I should be better in 2 days. See you soon.
Too bad that I got the disease that Housemate C had 3 days ago. Either that, or I got the disease through the phone... Hey! YH, whats the type of phone that you are using?? Must be some lowest quote product again...
Ok I know it is Housemate C. YH is not THAT good to get THAT type of phone YET.
In the meantime, my head is clouded. Reminds me of this commercial where there was this lady walking around the streets with a dark rainy cloud above her head. My lids feel heavy, my limbs feel cold and head feels burning hot.
I am sounding the retreat from the books and going back to bed. Armed with 500mg of Acetaminophen and 4mg of Chlorpheniramin every 6 hours. And a pack of KM's cold remedy whenever I feel that I need more air, opps... I think KM's cold remedy is going to be on IV. Heh.
If the course that C took is any indication, I should be better in 2 days. See you soon.
Notebook: Sense of Sorrowful Joy
I was bored of studying today so I went surfing.
I went online to read the works of the the current favourite poet, yes it is Kahlil Gibran again!
I read one of his (I think posthumous) publications. The Madman. It is a collection of parables and poems. It speaks of large and big things that matter like friendship, ambition, wisdom and God. And then it whispers of the smaller things that people think never matter. Like the ants on a persons nose or of the things that the blade of grass on the lawn might say to a falling autumn leaf.
The part on sorrow and joy... is so true. It is like the unveiling of something that you know exist but have never been able to put into words.
It is true that when you are sorrowful, more attention is given. And that you are almost porcelain fragile for as long as sorrow was with you. As if you have gained a reason to be the unreasonable one. And that when you are filled with joy, people are almost resentful of your existence... because you remind them even more of their sorrow. And no one is eager to celebrate your hearts' music.
It is not only the onlookers flaw though. we are all too eager to nurture and grow our sorrow... and when we have joy, we let it fade and die into nothingness... and into a memory.
Some things should really ought to change...
____________________________________________
I went online to read the works of the the current favourite poet, yes it is Kahlil Gibran again!
I read one of his (I think posthumous) publications. The Madman. It is a collection of parables and poems. It speaks of large and big things that matter like friendship, ambition, wisdom and God. And then it whispers of the smaller things that people think never matter. Like the ants on a persons nose or of the things that the blade of grass on the lawn might say to a falling autumn leaf.
The part on sorrow and joy... is so true. It is like the unveiling of something that you know exist but have never been able to put into words.
It is true that when you are sorrowful, more attention is given. And that you are almost porcelain fragile for as long as sorrow was with you. As if you have gained a reason to be the unreasonable one. And that when you are filled with joy, people are almost resentful of your existence... because you remind them even more of their sorrow. And no one is eager to celebrate your hearts' music.
It is not only the onlookers flaw though. we are all too eager to nurture and grow our sorrow... and when we have joy, we let it fade and die into nothingness... and into a memory.
Some things should really ought to change...
When My Sorrow Was Born
When my Sorrow was born I nursed it with
care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew
like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about
us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.
And
when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were
girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent
with Sorrow.
And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors
sat at their windows and listened; for our songs were deep as the sea and our
melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together, my
Sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of
exceeding sweetness.
And there were those who looked with envy upon us,
for Sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow
died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.
And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And
when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk
the streets no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in
pity, "See, there liesthe man whose Sorrow is dead."
And When My Joy Was Born
And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms
and stood on the house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for
Joy this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that laugheth in the sun."
But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was my
astonishment.
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the
house-top--and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone, unsought and
unvisited.
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but
mine held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.
Then my Joy
died of isolation.
And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my
dead Sorrow. But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and
then is heard no more.
-Kahlil Gibran, Excerpts from The Madman: His Parables and Poems-
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Another One Down
I hereby announce that I no longer have to wash disposable curvettes again in my life. Ok. Maybe that’s a tall order. I just pray that I don’t have to wash disposable curvettes during the duration of an experiment ever again. That would please me enough.
It is now official. The logbook for another module is now completed. 1 day ahead of its due date. A major accomplishment considering the brain rape that I have been constantly subjecting myself to for the past few weeks.
It took me 9 hours just to complete detailing the last experiment that lasted for 8 pages.
The entire book is now 63 pages in length.
You may do the math to determine the number of man-hours that went into creating this loving creature of a book.
How time flies indeed. I will never be attending another planned and rehearsed practical for the rest of my life. I will never again be holding a pre-printed logbook that tells you what to do and when to do it for a successful experiment.
Gosh… I already feel so alone.
And I am almost done with all this BSc stuff already. Somehow this small voice in me still proclaims that I am still not ready yet.
It is now official. The logbook for another module is now completed. 1 day ahead of its due date. A major accomplishment considering the brain rape that I have been constantly subjecting myself to for the past few weeks.
It took me 9 hours just to complete detailing the last experiment that lasted for 8 pages.
The entire book is now 63 pages in length.
You may do the math to determine the number of man-hours that went into creating this loving creature of a book.
How time flies indeed. I will never be attending another planned and rehearsed practical for the rest of my life. I will never again be holding a pre-printed logbook that tells you what to do and when to do it for a successful experiment.
Gosh… I already feel so alone.
And I am almost done with all this BSc stuff already. Somehow this small voice in me still proclaims that I am still not ready yet.
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